


Geometry: Chapter 19, Dief's Plan, Dief's Pack

by dsa_archivist



Category: Highlander - All Media Types, due South
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-08
Updated: 2006-10-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 18:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: The Hunters have to be stopped- but Dief's got a plan to turn the Hunters into the hunted.





	Geometry: Chapter 19, Dief's Plan, Dief's Pack

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Geometry: Chapter 19, Dief's Plan, Dief's Pack

## Geometry: Chapter 19, Dief's Plan, Dief's Pack

  
by Diefs Girl  


Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I just play with 'em and hand 'em back, none the worse for wear.

Author's Notes: A wealth of thanks go to Lady Ivy and ultra_chrome for beta help (and plot-point assistance, and character motivation resolution, and a wealth of other desperately needed assistance) FAR above and beyond the call of duty. And this chapter is dedicated to Randi, who likes this novel anough to keep asking for more. This one's for you, m'dear.

Story Notes: Highlander/due South crossover, with a cameo here and there from Hellboy, Airwolf, and a few other cameos the sharp-eyed might spot.

SequelTo: Geometry: Chapter 18, Revelations

* * *

It was close to midnight when Marina woke from her drowse; Methos' warm familiar comfort and the soothing lilt of his whispered tale had lulled her into an exhausted sleep. Dief was still sprawled out by her side, his head resting in the hollow of her hip. She reached out and stroked his forehead, loving the feel of the fine slick fur there. All his thick downy underfur had shed out over the previous two months -a great deal of it on her bedspread and couches- and the slick rain-shedding overcoat left lacked the velvet softness of his pale underfur.  
  
A satisfied sleepy growl rose up from Dief's throat as his mouth opened in a huge yawn, baring inch and a half fangs, but his jaws closed around Mina's wrist with an exquisitely gentle grip and tugged it around so she could scratch his chest. The wolf rumbled in pleasure at her caress, luxuriating in the scratching as her fingers found the dry itchy spot under the fur. Had sleep quieted his lovemate's restlessness, Dief asked, his mind-voice drifting across her drowsy awareness.  
  
"Not really," she sighed, but eased out from under Methos' arm and curled up against Dief's shaggy back, rubbing her cheek against his broad shoulder. "But at least I can think halfway straight." God, she loved this wolf; just the sound of Dief's deep tones thrumming in her mind was infinitely comforting.  
  
Dief twisted around and nuzzled her chin. What troubled her, lovemate?  
  
"I just hurt, beloved," she admitted. "Ben and Ray... ever since they saw me awaken..." she struggled to describe her unease. "Ray won't touch me, Ben keeps calling me Doctor MacLeod, it's like we're strangers again. We were making love last night, and now they don't even want to look at me."  
  
Dief growled faintly in disapproval, the fur along his hackles rising. They were being foolish. Moving as one, not pulling away from each other, forged the strength of the pack. They feared that she wished to return to her old pack -to the Oldest One, to her clan kin- and would not hold her against her will. So they were pushing her away before she could turn and savage them. Stupid humans, their hearts knew better but their minds were not listening. She was his, and she was pack, and nothing else mattered.  
  
That made Marina want to cry but she'd done more than enough of that today, the thought of more tears just made her tired. Perhaps she finally cried herself out. "I love you, Diefenbaker," she murmured, and the wolf rose to his feet and nudged her head back, disconcertingly intelligent understanding mirrored in his pale eyes. Dying and awakening had erased the bruises from her neck, but this time when Dief gripped her throat in his teeth he just held her pinned against the mattress, a silent affirmation of their bond.  
  
"Possessive," she teased, burying her hands in his ruff and marveling at how safe, how loved she felt sprawled on her back with the jaws of a dangerous predator clamped around her throat. Welcome to her life, Weirdity-R-Us.  
  
"You're talking to him, aren't you?" Methos' question was obviously rhetorical, but he was watching them, head propped up on one arm. Bare-chested and with dark hair rumpled from sleep and falling over his forehead, he was hardly the picture of a five thousand year old Immortal. He looked more like the graduate student he perpetually masqueraded as instead.  
  
Dief released her throat, licked her face affectionately and settled down between them. Mina rolled onto her side and draped herself over the wolf's bulk gladly, resting her chin on Dief's back.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Methos cocked his head and pushed the rumpled black locks out of his eyes with a careless hand. "How do you hear him? Do you hear words or just concepts?"  
  
"Mostly words, although he's placed images in my mind several times," she replied, threading her fingers through his ruff again. "Dief speaks several languages, so he's used to articulating in human fashion."  
  
Methos blinked. "He's multilingual?" He hadn't been expecting that little detail.  
  
She nodded. "He can lip-read in English and French, and he's picked up a little Italian and German since he's lived in Chicago."  
  
Dief rumbled a reminder and Marina added, "And he speaks several Inuit and First Nations dialects from growing up in the Northern Territories."  
  
Methos absorbed that, clearly startled. "I've never encountered that before."  
  
That startled Marina in turn. Rather a lot, in fact. She wasn't used to there being anything Methos hadn't seen before. "Really?"  
  
"No." Methos lolled back against the pillows, folding his hands behind his head as he stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling, thinking over what it might mean. "Of course the last time I saw a soul-bond like this, multilingualism was almost unheard of. Most tribes never encountered more than regional variations on a common dialect."  
  
"A soul-bond? Is that what it's called?" Marina and Dief exchanged a curious glance. "Can you tell us more?"  
  
Methos shrugged carelessly, his bare shoulders glowing pale in the dim illumination cast by the few candles still alight. "There's not a lot more to tell. This kind of bond was rare when I was young. You two are probably only the fifth or sixth time I've seen it. Even four thousand years ago, tribes were already inbreeding different species of dogs as opposed to adopting wild wolf pups. Domestication broke the lifetime pair-bond that seems to be necessary to the soul bond you two have."  
  
Methos studied Diefenbaker with an assessing stare, eyes narrowed as he absorbed Dief's appearance close-up. "I'd bet he's more than half-wolf, honestly. I think if you could check his breeding, you'd find he was three-quarters wolf, at least. He's got too much wolf in him to be half-dog."  
  
Dief huffed a laugh and growled approval. The Oldest One deserved his name; he was wise in more than the ways of humans.  
  
Marina relayed this and Methos laughed too, amused. "You're welcome," he said ironically, inclining his head in acknowledgement of the compliment. "You might be interested to know the bond's not gender-dependent either," he added as an afterthought.  
  
Marina shook her head, puzzled. "I don't understand."  
  
"I've seen a male human bond to a female wolf too," Methos explained. "Gender isn't a determining factor."  
  
"Is there anything else you can remember?" she asked.  
  
Methos thought it over before shaking his head regretfully. "Not really. I'm kind of surprised I even remember this much," Methos admitted. "My memories of the centuries before Kronos... are blurred, indistinct. We didn't really understand the passage of time then." He looked away and Marina reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his, knowing even now the memories of his life as one of the Four Horsemen tormented her lover.  
  
Desirous of shifting the focus of the conversation, Methos posed a question of his own. "How can you speak to him?"  
  
Marina turned their joined hands over to expose her inner wrist. "A mission with the B.P.R.D. If there was a crescent moon tonight, you could see the scar. It glows only in the moonlight when the moon is in the same phase as it was when we got them."  
  
"We?" Methos asked, his eyebrow lifting.  
  
Marina nodded. "Hellboy and I each have one. Ever since that mission, we can both speak to a few kinds of animals, ones with close to human-level intelligence. Whales, dolphins, the occasional cat... and Diefenbaker."  
  
Methos shook his head. "And I thought being an Immortal was weird. It's got nothing on being a Bureau agent, does it?"  
  
She chuckled and her fingers tightened on his. "No. It doesn't. Sometime when we have a whole night to spare, remind me to tell you about the time Hellboy, Abe and I spent the night standing on top of the dome of Saint Peter's Cathedral defending the Vatican from an attack by Heaven's warrior angels."  
  
Laughter exploded out of Methos, merriment dancing in his eyes. "That's a tale I'd like to hear."  
  
"Even you'd think that one's worth hearing." She lifted their hands to her face, brushing the back of Methos' knuckles against her cheek. "The Bureau is my family as much as you, Duncan and Connor are. Sometimes I think I don't remember that enough... that lives as long as ours aren't limited to our kind."  
  
"You've never come to terms with it." Worry shadowed Methos' features, darkened and underlined by the flickering candlelight. "With watching everyone you love age and die, while you never change."  
  
Marina shrugged, uneasy as always with this line of conversation. "I've avoided it, I admit. Knowing how crushing the weight of losing Heather still is to Connor, four and a half centuries later; and watching Tessa's death tear Duncan apart... it scares me, Methos. It scares me to death. I don't know that I'm strong enough to survive that... some Immortals aren't. And hell, I'm barely a century old, when you get right down to it, I'm still a baby to our kind."  
  
Methos nodded, acknowledging the truth of her statement. "At least you don't have to worry about that with Ray and Fraser."  
  
She frowned at him. "Because they're cops, they're more likely to die on the job than of old age? That's not much of an improvement, love. I'll still lose them."  
  
His brows drew together. "What are you talking about...?" Methos jerked to a halt and his stomach lurched as he grasped what Marina meant. Icy horror shocked down his spine and spread out to his limbs, freezing them into immobility.  
  
"I forget how young you are," Methos said hollowly, his mind reeling from the unexpected shock. "I do. I shouldn't. I know better."  
  
This was the missing piece, Methos thought sickly, this was the odd incongruity that had been niggling away at him ever since he first saw Marina, Ray and Fraser interacting. His beloved fledgling, already heartbroken and struggling to bear the burden with Immortal stoicism- this unwelcome knowledge was going to kill Mina. Might very well break her. This was worse than a disaster- this was tragedy on an apocalyptic scale. And tragedy like this had driven many a millennia-old Immortal into a duel that was nothing but suicide by blade. Ironic that even to Immortals suicide was pathetically easy; just challenge someone to a duel- and don't try to win. The Game took care of the rest.  
  
"Methos, what's wrong?" Mina said sharply, sitting up and fixing him with a penetrating stare. What was going on in that head of his, she wondered, that could put such an expression of worn, weary, ages-old misery on his face?  
  
Methos rubbed his hands over his face, hating, hating what he was about to have to do. "Mina," he asked tiredly, "have you ever encountered an unawakened Immortal before?"  
  
"Of course," she answered impatiently. "I lived with Richie, remember?"  
  
"Was he the only one?"  
  
She shrugged. "Yes, actually. I don't seem to have the affinity for finding young ones the way Duncan does."  
  
"I never thought..." Methos' fists thumped against the bed and his fingers clenched in the sheets, wrinkling the bunched-up cotton as his anger flared. How could he have failed so badly? He'd spent months researching the limits of her Immortal senses. Run batteries of tests, correlated information, compared the results to baseline studies of Duncan, himself, and Watcher records of other Immortals, both alive and dead; graphed charts, made extrapolations- how in the name of all that was holy had he missed such a huge, crucial piece of information? How? And now his monumental shortsightedness was going to reach out and savage Marina in the place she was most vulnerable.  
  
"As overdeveloped as some of your Immortal senses are, it never occurred to me some could be similarly deficient," Methos ground out, furious beyond belief with himself. Raging internally at his colossal oversight. "How could I have made a mistake like that? How could I have missed that?"  
  
"Methos!" Marina's voice cracked like a whip, jerking him out of the rising tide of self-recrimination. "What's wrong?"  
  
"What did Richie feel like to you, Mina? Before he Quickened?"  
  
Caught off guard by the question, Marina stopped and thought about it before answering, remembering the tousle-headed blond who had been a kid brother to her practically from the moment they met. "He felt like... Richie, I don't know, I kind of felt drawn to him somehow, like I sensed we were the same even before Duncan told me what he was. He made me promise not to tell Richie, of course, Duncan was afraid of what the premature knowledge would do to him. But he felt... familiar. I was drawn to him, even before I knew why. Kind of like the way I felt when I met Ray and Fraser..."  
  
Her voice broke off abruptly as understanding stole her breath, her chest fighting for oxygen that refused to enter her paralyzed lungs. "Oh, no," she wheezed, unable even to drag in sufficient air to speak properly. "No, please, Methos, tell me it's not..."  
  
But when her gaze snapped up to meet Methos, the wretched pity in his eyes was all the confirmation she needed. "Oh god, no." An animal's wordless cry of pain ripped its way out of her chest. Her hands, buried deep in Dief's fur, started to shake.  
  
Diefenbaker sat up, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat. What troubled her? What threatened the pack?  
  
"They're Immortals... like us," Marina choked out, one arm tightening around Dief's neck as she clung to him for dear life. She was so cold suddenly, cold with shock and cold with dread and icy-cold with fear. Fear for them- ignorant of their sleeping heritage and defenseless against an attack from rogue Watchers or worse, an evil Immortal.  
  
"Ray. Fraser," she whispered, staring horror-stricken at Methos. "That's what drew them to each other. That's what drew them to me, even though they didn't know it. Two unawakened Immortals, and I didn't feel it at all... and now I've landed them right in the middle of the Watcher War. Merciful God in Heaven, Methos, _what have I done?_ "  
  
The Immortal just shook his head, there was no comfort to offer, no answer to give. His heart ached looking at Mina, ghost-white and stricken, clinging to the wolf whose hackles were bristling and a low, menacing growl rumbling deep in his chest.  
  
Methos knew there was no choice now. None at all. As unawakened Immortals, Ray and Fraser's only chance to escape becoming the Hunters' prey was for no one to know. Salah must have realized, and simply assumed they knew. He would never mention it, of course; the rule against premature revelation of an Immortal was nearly as strong as the stricture about violating holy ground. So he knew, Mina knew, and Salah knew. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could keep this a secret long enough to get Ray and Fraser out of the line of fire. But it would have to be done quickly. It had to be done _now_.  
  
Dief growled louder, the fur over his hackles bristling higher as he felt Marina's rising despair, Methos' grim resignation. What threatened his pack, he snarled angrily. They would tell him, and they would tell him now.  
  
Methos said it straight out, looking right at the wolf so there was no mistake. He didn't need to speak wolf to know what Diefenbaker had asked.  
  
"Ray and Fraser are Immortals, Diefenbaker. But until they die the first time, they won't know. And right now they're horribly vulnerable. By our tradition, no Immortal will interfere with them until their first Quickening. Only the most evil of our kind dare that, like the Kurgan, and it turns against them every time. Few are even mad enough to try. But the Hunters would kill them and take their heads before they ever awoke the first time."  
  
Dief's ears snapped back in surprise as he absorbed the information, nuzzling Marina's cheek reassuringly. The wolf settled back, his hackles smoothing out as his head cocked thoughtfully. His pack mates were Old Ones? Why did he not smell the endless turning of the seasons in their blood the way he smelled it on his lovemate? On the Oldest One?  
  
Marina relayed the question and Methos' brows rose.  
  
"You can smell the Immortal taint in us?"  
  
Again, Dief's snort and disdainful ear-flick required no translation.  
  
"Sorry," Methos said wryly, amused. "As I said, until their first death, until the Quickening, the Immortal in them lies dormant. I imagine that's why you can't smell it. That's just a guess, I don't know for certain. It would be an interesting line of research."  
  
Methos shrugged, running his hands through his hair, combing it out of his face; forcing away the dregs of sleep and the residual horror so he could think clearly. "But there's no time now. We've got to get the Hunters out of Chicago. As fast as we can."  
  
"How?" Marina said bravely, raising her head. "We have to protect Ray and Fraser. Without them finding out what they are." Her personal agony was going to have to wait. A lifetime's worth of experience as an agent let her bury the pain deep down. What was required now was calm, decisive action. They needed a plan.  
  
Surprising both Methos and Marina considerably, it was Diefenbaker who offered one.  
  
The Mad Ones were vulnerable now, the wolf pointed out. Their pack -with the help of the street curs' pack- had killed most of their hunting party. The Mad Ones were weak now, off balance and vulnerable. They must not allow them time to regroup.  
  
"He's got a point," Methos agreed, curious what the wolf had in mind. "Go on, Diefenbaker."  
  
Dief huffed his approval at Methos' ready acceptance. They needed to lure the last of the Mad Ones here in Ray's city out and let their pack mates capture them. But most importantly, they needed to lure out the Mad Ones' alpha, and kill him.  
  
"It's a good plan," Methos admitted, leaning back against the headboard and thinking it over after Mina patiently translated. "But how do we lure them out?"  
  
Offer them the prey they sought; Dief rumbled impatiently, his ears flicking back in annoyance. They would break from cover and attack; it was their nature.  
  
Marina didn't bother to translate that any way but literally even though Dief's answer had shades of meaning far beyond the straightforward words; she was too busy thinking. "Do the Hunters still have access to the Watcher database?"  
  
"Yes," Methos said grimly. "The Council is sure there's a leak, but we don't know who it is. It might be a Council member. Horton's plot ran very deep in the Watchers' Guild."  
  
She nodded. That fitted. "So if we plant a Chicago sighting on the Watcher database, they'll go for it?"  
  
Methos' lips thinned in visible dislike of the idea but he nodded in reluctant agreement. "Almost certainly."  
  
"Can you plant a fake sighting?" Mina pressed.  
  
"Why not use a real one?" Methos said unexpectedly, sitting up with a jerk as his expression changed -startlingly quickly- going intent, devious. _Cunning_.  
  
Marina's gaze sharpened. She knew that look. She'd seen it before.  
  
"The Hunters aren't stupid enough to try and assault an Immortal's citadel, they know it'll be booby-trapped. Especially yours. You were an intelligence operative for fifty years, Mina; your Watcher file says so. They'd never try for you here... but we do have the perfect bait," Methos practically purred, his voice dropping. "Salah."  
  
"Saladin?" Mina's brows drew together when she didn't follow and she waited for an explanation.  
  
"Salah's in police custody, _a ghra_ ," Methos explained, seeing the plan take shape in his mind's eye. "Not even federal custody, Chicago local police custody, and to the Hunters, that means he's vulnerable. We post a report on the Watcher database about Saladin's location, and when the Hunters attack..."  
  
"We spring the trap." She nodded thoughtfully. "Risky, but it could work. But should we be putting Salah in danger without at least warning him first?"  
  
Methos snorted. "You don't know Salah," he disagreed. "I do. He was my liegeman for three centuries. He'd let himself be dragged naked over ten miles of broken glass for a chance to avenge Mitch's death."  
  
Marina shrugged her lack of an answer to that assertion. "Unfortunately, we don't know where Salah is right now," she pointed out. "He's probably in a safe house at this point. I doubt they'd have kept him at the precinct building. Too hard to secure."  
  
"I know where Salah is," Methos disagreed, shoving the covers aside and reaching for his cell phone on the bedside table while taking Mina's hand with the other. "Or rather, I will."  
  
Marina didn't bother to argue. Methos hadn't been the mastermind behind the Four Horseman for a thousand years by being stupid. "How?" she asked, sliding out of bed and letting Methos tug her down the hallway into her den. Diefenbaker leaped off the bed and padded along the hall beside her, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor.  
  
"Cody Allenby is your Watcher." Methos slid into her desk chair and his eyes glinted at her as he booted up her computer. "But you knew that."  
  
"Of course I did," she said dryly. "I just didn't want to get Cody into trouble by mentioning it to Joe. If you Watchers want your agents to pass unnoticed, you ought to stop tattooing a big frigging signal flare on their wrists."  
  
Methos grinned. Wrapping a hand around Marina's neck, he pulled her head down and kissed her, warm lips, strong mouth and his familiar taste so very dear.  
  
It soothed Mina, briefly unwound the brittle constriction in her chest that kept pulling chokingly tight. Despair caused by the knowledge that she was going to have to leave Ben and Ray -and her beloved Diefenbaker- kept closing her throat but she pushed it away mercilessly. This was a combat situation. No time for sentiment. No time for weakness. Not if she wanted her lovers, her mate, her mentor -and the very strangest of all- her new knight to live.  
  
Methos kissed her again, hard and quick, understanding all too well the emotions Marina was ruthlessly locking away, and explained. "Allenby was following you to Salah but couldn't stay in the projects. He almost got carjacked trying. But he would have come back to the wharf and waited for your return. When Salah, you and I returned together, he would have kept us all under surveillance, but..."  
  
"I get it," Mina interrupted. "If you were here to watch over me, Cody would have followed Salah when Ray and Fraser took him to the precinct. Could he have followed Salah to the safe house?"  
  
"Of course. Watchers are experts in surveillance, my darling. After all, we've been at it for thousands of years." Methos winked at her and dialed Allenby's number. "Have faith."  
  
Mina twined her arms around his neck and leaned close, close enough to hear Cody answering on the other end. Cody Allenby- Theresa's boyfriend, her student... her Watcher. "My faith's in pretty short supply right now, Methos," she whispered against his cheek, "but I still believe in you."  
  


* * *

Driving back to the wharf, Ray drummed his fingers restlessly on the GTO's steering wheel. Interrogating the Hunters turned his stomach in more ways than one, twisted his nerves tight as overstretched guitar strings. He felt like if he moved too fast, too sudden, he might just snap.

During the entire interrogation, only Fraser's silent, steadying presence kept him from fucking exploding. The urge to just pull out his gun and pump two rounds into those bastards -right behind the ear, angled up and toward the forehead so there was no chance of the bullets not pulping the brain- had been god awful. Ray fought it every second, fought the urge to kill while he threatened and bullied and jabbed for every last little bit of information he could wring loose from the sons-of-bitches.

Dancing around the subject had just gotten him smug _if you only knew, cop_ attitudes; so Ray moved the interrogation into the interview room without the one-way glass and took the gloves off. His direct, snarled questions about killing Immortals shocked the bastards badly enough to actually drop some information, and once Ray got 'em started, the way the fanatics boasted about ambushing and killing -slaughtering- helpless Immortals before they could recover was enough to make him want to puke. Or kick them right in the head. Hard. Repeatedly. Until he left his freaking boot prints on the inside of their skulls.

It sickened Ray, the more specifics he pulled out: a chance phrase here, then an unguarded admission there, some serious gloating once he'd gotten past their guard. Jesus Christ, these sons-of-bitches weren't messing around. They had every intention of killing every last Immortal on the planet, and had the resources and manpower to actually pull it off if they got lucky. The entire interrogation had been unreal...

* * *

"...you can't protect her," the squad leader said smugly; gloating over what he thought was his superior position in this interrogation. "We know where MacLeod is now. No way in Hell you can get her out of the city without us knowing. It's just a matter of time." He grinned mockingly at Ray, his handcuffed hands coming up to point a pistol-finger at Ray's chest.   
"Your bitch is a dead woman walking, cop. Better fuck her while you've got the chance."

Ray kicked him right in the chest, knocking the chair over so the jerk's head rebounded off the scarred dirty linoleum floor. He started to swear but Ray was faster, angrier and his knee dug into the bastard's gut, one hand wrapped around his throat and the other fist cocked back to swing.

"You so much as _breathe_ in her direction," Ray hissed, literally shaking from the fury snarling in his gut, desperate to get out and hurt someone; "and you won't live long enough to call your fucking lawyer, scumbag."

Fraser had to drag him off the shithead, who looked like he was maybe revising his opinion on whether or not it was smart to lip off to a cop in his own damn station. Good. Damn good. Not that it would do Marina any good. If the Hunters were as well set up as this asshole was boasting -and unfortunately, Ray was pretty sure they were- then getting her out of the city without an assassination squad on her tail was going to be one hell of a trick.

And the last thing Ray wanted was for Marina to go anywhere. Even thinking about it made his stomach clench the way it did when Stella served him his walking papers. Dammit, they'd barely started being a pack- it made Ray fucking sick to think about losing it already...

* * *

"Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray!"

Fraser's familiar litany jerked Ray back from the hell he'd been lost in, hoarding every last iota of information that might be useful in taking down the bastards after Mina.

"We won't let them hurt her, Ray," his partner said soothingly, exuding that weird certainty he always showed in the middle of their wacky, bizarre cases.

Fraser's calm assurance drained away the majority of Ray's barely-suppressed fury. That big, warm, blunt-fingered hand was resting on his leg and Fraser's serious expression told Ray his partner was at least as worried about him as he was about Marina. Which was crazy, because there wasn't a bunch of psychos trying to off _him_ , but it made that skittering, stretched-too-tight feeling under his skin ease anyway.

"This is some pretty fucked-up shit, Frase," Ray admitted tiredly, switching off the engine. He'd driven home on total autopilot, the GTO was tucked in its new space in the parking garage and he didn't remember anything much past shoving the two bastards back into holding with strict orders not to let them communicate with anyone.

Welsh backed Ray right up on that and the DA was under heavy pressure from the Mayor's office to let the CPD catch the remaining assassination squad before letting the ones in custody lawyer up. The ADA on the case wasn't Stella, thank Christ, she'd been ordered by the DA to take two weeks' vacation ASAP and according to the office grapevine, was up to her chin in an IRS audit.

Archangel hadn't wasted any time getting Stella's attention fixed on something beside Marina, and Ray could only be grateful, he had more than enough to worry about already. Thank Christ for Fraser, who was keeping him steady and on-track with the case; and thank God for Dief, who would tear the throat out of anyone who came after Mina- because without that certainty Ray _couldn't_ have kept his mind on the case.

"Let's go inside, Ray," Fraser urged, voice soft and gentle, while the hand on Ray's leg tightened slightly.

Ray realized he'd zoned out again, right while he was sitting in the Goat, and he was so tense his jaw ached from being clenched tight for hours. "Yeah, okay," he muttered, squeezing Fraser's reassuring hand back before getting out of the car.

The ride up in the elevator was silent. Ray hardly knew what to think; his head was stuffed too full with fanatic killers and people who couldn't die unless you chopped their heads off and the Game and 'There can be only One', and oh yeah, let's not forget the little fact that the ruler of the world might end up being his and Frase's new friend. Girlfriend. Lover.

That was another whole huge snarled mess; Ray's gut was knotted up with wanting Mina, wanting Ben, wanting her body crushed between his and Frase's until he could feel nothing but their heat warming him outside and inside. 'Cause dammit, something in him had been cold, colder, coldest ever since Mina died in his arms... Marina died in his arms today. Threw herself in front of a bullet for him just like he did for Fraser, that very first day of their partnership, this duet that turned into a motherfucking symphony when Marina came along and knocked his and Ben's heads together enough times to make them both admit they were in love...

"Ray. Ray? Ray! _Ray!_ "

It took a hard shake by Fraser's big hands to jerk him back this time, and when it did Ray realized he was shaking, leaning against the elevator wall and shuddering so hard his whole body hurt.

Ray raised dazed, traumatized eyes to Fraser and the Mountie bit off a smothered oath, wrapped an arm around his partner's waist and hauled him bodily out of the elevator, down the hall and into their apartment. Ray couldn't spare the brainpower to be surprised at the hurried way Frase had him through the door, kicking it shut with a boot without breaking stride. He hustled Ray past the mess in the living room and right into Fraser's bedroom, which -surprise, surprise- was neat as could be, not that it was hard with as little furniture as Frase liked.

Fraser shoved him down on the neatly made bed, stripped Ray's jacket and boots off, yanked off his own belt, tunic and boots off with quick, precise jerks and pulled Ray into the center of the bed, holding him tightly. Once there, Fraser tucked Ray's head into his shoulder, wrapped arms and legs around him and just held on, murmuring soft-voiced reassurances into Ray's ear.

"Mina died for me, Ben," Ray muttered into Fraser's collarbone, unable to let it go. "I held her while she died."  
She should be dead. His Mina, their Mina, should be cold and dead, dead, dead on a slab in Mort's morgue right now. Because of him. Ray shook harder, unable to control the vicious shudders running through his body. The day had been nothing but wild ups and downs and Ray might be used to some serious freaky-ass shit after being Fraser's partner for so long, but this was pushing his limits. He couldn't get the picture of Marina dying in his arms out of his head. If he looked down at his hands, there would still be traces of her heart's blood caked under his nails. "She died in my arms," he repeated hoarsely, clinging to Fraser for dear life. "We shoulda lost her today..."

"But we didn't," Fraser whispered fiercely into his ear, "she's _alive_ , and she's fine, and..." His partner took a deep, shuddering breath and held him tighter. "And we _love_ her, and we will not permit anyone hurt her again, Ray. We _won't_."

God, it felt good to have Ben wrapped right around him, all that strength holding on to him; all that weight anchored him, kept him together when without it Ray felt like he might shatter.

"Love you, Ben," Ray muttered, feeling the fierce shudders racking his frame finally begin to ease. He slid his hands under Fraser's undershirt and felt warmth seep back into his fingers. In spite of the torrid summer heat Ray had been cold, inside and out, for hours.

"And I you," Fraser murmured, his lips brushing over Ray's cheekbone, his hands stroking down Ray's back soothingly.

The racking shudders finally stopped. Ray burrowed deeper into his partner's arms and let Fraser's embrace hold the demons in his mind at bay as exhaustion dragged him down relentlessly.

* * *

Back in Marina's apartment with his paws up on the edge of the desk watching over Methos' shoulder, Dief lifted his head and sniffed the slow current of air drifting through the room.

The rest of the pack returned, Dief rumbled, dropping back down to all four paws and nudging Marina towards the door. They would need to know of his plan, if it was to succeed. A pack must hunt together if it was to bring down such dangerous prey. Diefenbaker cocked his head at Methos and quirked his ears forward. Would the Oldest One be all right alone for a short time?

Marina flinched and shook her head. The last thing Ray and Ben would want to see right now was her. "You go ahead, beloved," she said wearily, rubbing her hands up and down her arms in an effort to warm skin gone chilled at the very thought of facing her former lovers. "I'll stay with Methos."

Diefenbaker moved so fast it was impossible to tell who was the more stunned, Marina or Methos, but his jaws clashed together a bare inch from her throat, and his howl was pure unadulterated fury.

_Enough_ of this human foolishness! This was his pack, and he would tolerate no more of it! His jaws clamped around Marina's wrist and yanked hard, hard enough to leave a mark as he dragged her toward the door.

Methos half-rose out of the desk chair with his hand reflexively reaching for a weapon, shocked into movement by the savagery of Dief's response. "Mina!"

Dief's head whipped around and his growl was a clear and present warning. This was pack-business, the wolf rumbled curtly, and he would thank the Oldest One to stay out of what did not concern him.

Jerked out of her depression, Marina waved Methos back into his chair.

"I think I'm about to get a chewing-out," she said wryly, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "But I kinda think I have it coming."

Methos' expression indicated he didn't find that particularly reassuring, but he sank back into the chair behind the desk.   
"You sure?" he asked dubiously, fingers drumming a rapid low beat on the polished wood desktop.

Marina smiled down at Diefenbaker, the light in her eyes unexpectedly soft and tender for someone with her hand clamped in a predator's jaws. "I'm sure," she murmured, and let Dief lead her from the room.

Methos shook his head and sagged back in the chair. "I take it back," he muttered, beginning to be seriously weirded out by the whole fucked-up situation. "I've never seen anything even close to this before."

* * *

Diefenbaker let go of Mina's wrist once they were in the hallway, but herded her pointedly down the far end of the apartment to the pool. The marble floors were cool underfoot and the dim ambient glow of the city shining down through the skylights glittered on the faint ripples running across the water. There was just enough light to see the Egyptian murals on the walls and it squeezed Marina's throat closed to realize she was going to have to leave this, this home she'd made with her dreams, her sweat and her own two hands.

"Oh, Dief," she whispered, broken apart by the realization. "I don't want to go."

Pale lupine eyes glittered at Mina as Dief nudged her over to the lounge under the sunbathing lamp. She sank down on the canvas duck cushions and leaned back, automatically shifting to the side so the wolf could leap up beside her. Dief sat down and took a lock of her hair in his teeth, tugging gently until she pillowed her head on his shoulder so he could lick her temple.

"What are we going to do, my love," she whispered, twining her fingers through his ruff. "Were we crazy to think this could be real? I love you. I love Ray, I love Ben, and I have to leave you. There's no other choice." Dief rumbled in his chest and nuzzled her cheek, saying nothing for the moment.

Mina brushed a kiss across the fine short fur over his brow ridge and felt the constricting band pulling her heart too tight ease a fraction. She breathed out, a long, slow exhalation that tasted, to Dief's sensitive nostrils, of her resignation and sorrow.

"I love you, Diefenbaker," she murmured. "Whatever happens I'll love you until they take my head or the sun burns out. You'll be in my heart forever."

Dief nudged her head back and gripped her throat in his jaws, pinning her against the cushions. It was, Marina reflected, a measure of how head over heels she was about the wolf that she found that immeasurably reassuring.

Dief growled a pointed reprimand, the sound resonating against her throat affectionate but impatient. He could not deny she must flee the Hunters, that to protect Ben and Ray the pack must be sundered for a time. But her old pack was turning the Hunters into the hunted, and the time was coming when they would kill the last of the Mad Ones. Until then he knew the truth, he would protect Ben and Ray until they could be reunited. She need not fear for them, or for him. _He_ was Alpha, and he would see to the safety of his pack.

Marina smiled, her fingers digging into the soft hollows behind his ears, where the fur was thickest and downy-soft. "Thank you, beloved."

But she was being too human again, Diefenbaker told her sternly. She needed Ben and Ray, and they needed her. They had little time left, so what time was left was too precious to waste from needless fear. They still had _now_ \- and the pack needed to be one again, if only for a night.

The yearning that surged through Marina took her by surprise. God in Heaven, but she wanted them. Her nipples tightened at the thought of Ray's hands, Ben's mouth on her, in her.

Dief scented the sharp change in her body, fear replaced by longing, by pure lust. He huffed a laugh to himself. Humans- why did the ability to mate in any season so often shift to the need to mate in _every_ season?

"Are you sure they want me?" she choked out, struggling with the desire to touch Ben and Ray, to taste their mouths, feel their hands on her naked skin, to be crushed between them while they came. God, but she wanted to feel them inside her. Marina nearly whimpered at the surge of pure desire that thought triggered, how much she wanted to be pinned between those two strong bodies, feel two hard cocks pushing inside her. Ever since the first time Methos and Duncan fucked her together that was the pinnacle of intimacy for Mina, the most erotic act imaginable.

Diefenbaker snorted, impatient with her apprehension. They wanted her. She wanted them. Nothing stopped them from being together but human fears, and Dief was weary of those foolish doubts. His pack needed this union, this bond that made them one, in flesh as well as spirit. So be it. If it was what they needed, he meant to see they had it. But coercion was not the way of the pack. Did she wish to be with them, or not? He would not force her. It must be her choice.

"One last night," Marina murmured, desire running strong in her veins, as powerful as a Quickening. More so. "Let's go," she whispered, pressing a hard kiss against Dief's furry cheek. "I love you, my own. My lovemate. My alpha."

Diefenbaker rumbled a satisfied sigh. It was past time she admitted that. Very well. He heaved to his feet and jumped down off the lounge. Let them be at it, then.

"Yes, my love," Marina said obediently and tangling her fingers in his ruff, let Dief lead her from the room.

* * *

  
 

* * *

End Geometry: Chapter 19, Dief's Plan, Dief's Pack by Diefs Girl 

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